


What Happened to Perfect

by ICanDoThisAllDayy



Series: Songs-inspired fic(let)s [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - His Last Vow, Dialogue Heavy, Drugged Sherlock, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, F/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Oblivious John, Pining, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock is Alone, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanDoThisAllDayy/pseuds/ICanDoThisAllDayy
Summary: His Last Vow-divergent: This takes place after Christmas at the Holmes’ and just a day before the Tarmac scene (okay I’m not really sure about chronology anymore so let’s just make this canon divergent) ❤️





	What Happened to Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> The lines inspired by the song will be in bold (:

Sherlock sits inside the walls of 221B Baker Street, and with trembling hands and a vision that was now on the verge of going blurry, he gathers up enough energy to call his elder brother Mycroft. Yes, Mycroft Holmes, the British Government, of all people. _I mean, I can’t really call John now, can I?_ _Not since,_ he lets out a self-deprecating smirk, _since he got married… to an assassin, an assassin who shot his best friend to death, almost._

As the bell starts ringing, Sherlock starts to think of why he called him in the first place. He really shouldn’t, all he needs is another fix right now, another hit, another high, nothing is high enough anymore to cover the pain, and Mycroft certainly isn’t one to provide that. But, he thought, maybe, just maybe, for once Mycroft will not hold this as a grudge if he listens to the explanation behind. He’s off on a suicide mission to Eastern Europe tomorrow anyway, may as well let his heart pour out all that he has held back for so long. _So what if the listener is not the person all my words are meant for?_

Mycroft picks up on the sixth ring, “Yes, Sherlock?” “Brother mine…please…”, Sherlock barely manages to whisper through ragged breath. With that, the older Holmes cut the call. Mycroft immediately senses danger and asks Anthea to cancel off all his meetings for the day as he rushes to 221B Baker Street at once. On his way, he tries to conjure up a list of the possible combination of drugs now in Sherlock’s bloodstream. And boy is he going to give Sherlock a lesson of a lifetime. _Why doesn’t he ever learn?_

Mycroft starts shouting once he opens the door to the flat, “For Heaven’s Sake, Sherlock! You’re leaving tomo-”, but when he sees his little brother in sight, he stops. Sherlock looks miserable, as he always does every time he has seen him like this. But this time, there is more to it. There’s a different kind of vulnerability. He holds off his lecture and holds instead his brother in his arms, who was now collapsed on the floor. _Oh, oh dear, I told you not to get involved, didn’t I? This is what happens._

Sherlock’s eyes were closed, “John?”, he asks with a dreamy smile and hopeful voice, but when he opens his eyes, it’s only Mycroft. “Oh… Right, why would John be here? How idiotic of me. Huh.”, but he doesn’t let go of his brother. If anything, he hugs Mycroft closer. “Myc…I’m sorry I called you here and you probably are a very busy man so I’ve ruined everything for you. Before you say anything, yes I am high, and my thoughts are racing everywhere, I mean I even said sorry to you. And I am conscious, so not that bad I suppose? Not as bad as all those years ago. Anyway, brother mine, I have something I wish to get off my chest. Would you please listen, to me, to my heart, to my sentiments?” _When was the last time I confided in you, anyway, brother mine?_

Mycroft pets his dark curly hair, encouraging him to go on, “When have I ever denied your requests?” The last time Sherlock cried in his lap was when Victor Trevor, Sherlock’s best friend as a child, suddenly went missing. Mycroft knew what happened, of course, but he didn’t have the heart to reveal it. Sherlock came to his room late at night and just silently cried in his lap when Victor didn’t show up to play pirates for two weeks straight. That was the day Sherlock vowed not to get close to people anymore. Fast forward to today, he finds themselves in a similar situation. So, he knows it is about John. If not more, Sherlock is feeling the same pain as he did with Victor Trevor. _I’m sorry, Sherlock, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening to you again. I tried my best. But you’re you, and…_

Sherlock sits upright all too sudden and properly hugs Mycroft as support, or to hide his face, they will never know. “ **He’s living with a woman he no longer knows.** Nobody knows her. We don’t even know her real name… He was so much happier here. I don’t know what I have done to drive him away, and by all means, I must be at fault. What with the fall and all… But he isn’t any happier there, is he? I’m asking you because my observation may have been blinded by my own emotions.” Mycroft doesn’t respond. “ **He’s forgotten to smile.** But he was, he still is, forever will be, my conductor of light. He was a ray of sunshine, no matter how mad he was at me, at least I knew he was secretly pleased whenever he saw me. Now, things are so awkward. Even more awkward than our jealous phases with Sarah or Irene.” He scoffs, “And to think those were the complicated times. Why am I like this, Myc? We are we like this?” _Please don’t stop me from speaking for I may never speak again._

“ **Now we sit across each other and we have nothing to say**. No bickering like a married couple, as Greg and Mrs Hudson so fondly put it. Did we really look like married, brother? I guess that’s as close as I could have gotten.” Mycroft feels his shoulder getting damp but he’s not going to let Sherlock know those are his tears. He keeps stroking Sherlock’s back, giving him the comfort he needs. _Your loss would break my heart, and it has, brother mine._

“ **Remember when I used to make him laugh? And every joke was better than the last?** Tell me you do, please! The giggling at the first crime scene… The sheet, the ashtray, surely you do? Surely he does?” “Yes, Yes I do”, utters the other Holmes. “ **I tried to bring us back to that.** On the day I came back after the Fall. In the empty train carriage. I tried to dissolve our tension. **I wanted to reminisce our old moments and hoped it would work out.** Clearly, things never did, he married Mary Morstan. That Best Man Speech… I wished you were there, Mycroft, I needed you that day. I don’t know how I did it. But then again, I never managed, did I? Else you wouldn’t find me like this.” _I wanted you to be there, to remind me, caring is not an advantage. Maybe I’ll make him laugh one last time tomorrow. Am I still caring? I shouldn’t. Not anymore._

“ **I’m jealous of Mary.** There, I said it. He, he who is absolutely mad at his wife for turning out the way she is. She, she who shot John Hamish Watson’s best friend, to death. Sherlock Holmes would have been dead if not for John Watson. And yet, it is she who sleeps with him under the same roof. Why can’t that be me?” He quietly lets out a sob and Mycroft only clings to him harder. “ **I tried to understand.** I broke him too much for far too many times and it was unfair of me to expect him to still be so loyal to me. Perhaps it was all too late when I finally understood what that constricted pain constantly inside me meant. I once said to Moriarty I don’t have a heart, but I was so wrong. Even the wedding, I could endure. I always had cocaine, no matter how hard you tried to keep me away from it. It was the idea of John Watson having a family, that baby, and me not being a part of that family. **That was when I especially felt my heart crumbling.** ” _Alone was what I had, alone protected me. When did that change?_

Sherlock’s tears were now uncontrollable and he starts to shake, so Mycroft guides him up and makes him sit on the couch instead. “Mrs Hudson, Angelo, You, Moriarty, Irene, the innkeepers, Molly. You all saw something. Before the Fall, I kept it all in check, but even if I did let my emotions to slip a little, it wouldn’t have said much. So I knew whatever ideas you all got was also from John, am I wrong? Am I wrong to have had a slight glimmer of hope after Baskerville? Before Moriarty came in and just… just ruined whatever was starting to form between us? **There was love under the surface.** We were both conflicted with different areas of life and not quite ready to confront. It’s my fault, really, should have come up with better plans for Moriarty” “It’s not your fault, Sherlock, don’t do this to yourself.” He tries to hush his little brother down by wiping his tears. _Growing up, I believed in the saying “love is a dangerous disadvantage”. You’ve proven me right, but at what cost, Sherlock? At what cost?_

“ **It wasn’t on purpose.** The Fall. You know that. I know that. He doesn’t. I don’t think he would like to bring himself to understanding and somehow I am content with that, he has suffered so much because of me, his agony is justified… I just never imagined it, never imagined how hurt and heartbroken that would leave him. **That was why the Fall hurts like it was, on purpose.** Like Moriarty knew something of John and I that we didn’t and so, in the end, he managed to burn the heart out of me anyway.” Sherlock was now turning calmer than before, so Mycroft got up to bring him a glass of water, but more as an excuse to compose his own self. He could still hear Sherlock in the kitchen, “ **Nobody deserves this**. Especially John. He shouldn’t have suffered simply because I made a mistake of falling in love with him without realising. If he had to go through all that pain, he should have known the reason.” Mycroft went back to him and offered the glass “Actually, on second thought, no. I’m practically pulling off a Lazarus tomorrow again. I mean, the fall thing. Dying. Again. John has a family now, I am nothing to him I suppose. Wouldn’t want to end up becoming a burden again.” Sherlock shrugs his shoulder. _It is what it is, and what it is, is shit._

Mycroft sits beside him and pats his shoulder, where Sherlock catches his hand with his own. “It’s just… **what happened to perfect?** Just the two of us against the rest of the world? **We used to be worth it. We never gave up.** I don’t know where things changed and I’ll never be able to fix it now. And that’s the one regret I’ll bring with me to my grave.” Mycroft uses his other hand to release his own and sadly looks at Sherlock. “Sherlock…” “Please, I’m not coming back no matter what you say now, my life would just end up being a stupid cycle of regrets,” Sherlock jeered, to half-convince himself more than Mycroft. _This is it, then._

Sherlock doesn’t speak after that, so Mycroft sits for a while longer to make sure his brother has nothing more to say on this, which meant his intoxication levels were now coming down. He wipes away a silent tear of his own as he hugs Sherlock one last time before leaving. “Goodbye, brother mine. See you tomorrow.” Just as Mycroft opens the door, he hears Sherlock calling him from the couch. “ **Would he call if he heard this? Would he know it was us?** Would he know it was love?” Mycroft closes the door without looking. _I don’t know Sherlock, I don’t know._

**Author's Note:**

> Song: What Happened to Perfect by Lukas Graham 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this :D


End file.
